Ejection Strike
by Quallevra
Summary: The sequel to "Landing Day". The other side of Resurgence's story.
1. Prologue

**Ejection Strike**

Prologue

 _In the final moments_

Chikak, head of Harbinger 1-3, stared grimly at the the screen as the sounds of battle raged outside. Although the display was blurry and flickering, it was still legible. It read, "Evidence system problem caused by vermin. Somehow infiltrated in Scout."

Chikak could already see from the other screens that the rest of their Harbingers were being destroyed in droves. There were fewer left than he had fingers on one hand, and dropping. At this rate, they would soon follow. The fleet of Strikers outside had been all but annihilated, and they weren't close enough to anything worth firing the thermetic cascade at. Indeed, trying was what had doomed many of the others. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to try inflicting a different type of damage.

Whirling around, Chikak called out to his crew. "Bring us to ground level and stabilize us. Bypass the cascade's usual workings and rewire the beam for damage output… for drilling."

Some of the others stared back in shock. "You want to try to core the planet?! Now, by ourselves?!"

Chikak nodded grimly. "Apologies to Nuconne, but yes. If we do nothing, they'll kill us too. That's clear by now. At least this way, they can't come at us from below, and we may do some damage to them in turn."

"We can't claim the energy in a Harbinger," someone muttered, but there were more vital concerns. "If this works, we could kill everyone still down here. Many of ours could still be alive."

"I know," Chikak snapped, "but at this rate, none of us will be for long. It's clear by now that there will be no Harvest. If we do this, the vermin will take the bulk of the damage, and that just may save some of ours!" He looked around fiercely. "Do it!"

There was a brief moment of hesitation, but then his crew got to work. Although he could still hear doubt from many of them, they were all committed to making this work if possible. Coring would normally be the last step in a Harvest, the final prize claimed from the planet, and for good reason: the planet would be uninhabitable once the energy was extracted. Now, he could only hope that trying to bleed that energy out would prove an effective move against the vermin that were unexpectedly destroying their people.

"Chikak, look. I may have found something." He looked over at the soft call. Ketni was still planted in front of the same monitor she'd been working at for the last sub-cycle, and he'd almost forgotten about her and her little project. He wasn't sure the results mattered anymore. He went to look anyway.

"You can see them through those devices?"

"Yes, I can use their relay drones to see them. I've been doing that. I mean, I think I've found something worth seeing." She gestured to the screen. They'd been using the vermin's orbiting machines for their own signals from the beginning, but Ketni had had the idea to use their native monitoring ability to search for information on which of the detected hot spots was the center for what they now knew to be a terrible counter-attack in the making. Now she had a view from one of them. The screen was marred with static, but it showed a single vermin producing sounds, clearly holding the attention of all the others around it. "This is from just before the trouble started, and this is clearly one of their heads, rallying or ordering the rest. I think it's the head of the whole thing."

"You may be right," Chikak told her. "Unfortunately, that doesn't help us now. It's far too late to stop anything by targeting the source. Besides, I'm guessing that there's no one left wherever that came from to do it."

"No," Ketni agreed softly. "The Harbinger that went for that nest was the first to be destroyed." She looked up. "We might still be able to learn something from this, though. Perhaps if we could find a way to interpret the sounds it's making…"

Chikak sighed. He could feel her desperation to do something useful, to salvage something, but it really was too late. "I'm sorry. I don't think that will help us now." He paused to listen as other crew members assured him that they had a drill-laser working. Indeed, he could hear it humming. After a moment, he turned back to Ketni. "Look, if you really think there's value in what you found, send it to Homeship. Maybe they can gain something from it. It's no good to us down here."

Although he tried to suppress it, Ketni heard his full meaning. "You don't expect us to survive either, do you?"

"No," Chikak admitted softly. Everyone who had come down to this world, he feared, was as good as dead. He looked up. Those back up Home would have to carry on somehow, despite this loss…

Suddenly, he and everyone else on the Harbinger staggered in shock, as a horrible wave of devastation swept through the Thoughtsea. It had come from above. Homeship, and everyone on it, had been destroyed.

"No… how?" It seemed that was the only sentiment left to them. Chikak leaned against the console in despair. Now there was truly nothing, and no one, left.

But no, he suddenly realized. That wasn't quite true. Their entire civilization had just effectively perished, but others existed, out there…

Knowing he had only a mini-cycle or less, his fingers flew over the buttons of the console. Swiftly, he keyed in the statement of their destruction, attached the recording of what Ketni had found, and sent it out into the Void, where he could only trust that another Arretchi Homeship would pick it up.

A moment later, the consoles, and the entire Harbinger interior, went dark. The sound of their makeshift drill ceased. Without the energy field from Home, they had no power to run on, and unlike smaller ships, a Harbinger didn't have back-up energy modules. At least they didn't have to worry about falling, since they'd already settled to the ground.

Chikak could feel the fear and despair that filled his crew. He wasn't immune to them himself. Taking a deep breath, he turned to them. "Our people are dead, and we're stranded here, on this hostile planet. I don't know how long we'll last. However, we are still alive. We'll stay that way, as long as we can."

"You called out to others of our kind, whoever may be out there," Ketni noted. "Do you expect help to come?"

"I don't know," Chikak admitted. "I sent the message as a warning, so others would know the danger here. I don't know if anyone will try to help us. I doubt it would come in time if they did. We're alone, and surrounded by hostile, and apparently very deadly, vermin. I don't know how long we can last."

"Then what do we do?" someone asked.

Chikak looked around grimly at his crew, all that was left of their people. "For as long as possible, we fight."


	2. Chapter 1

**Ejection Strike**

Part One

 _A quarter-Span later_

Mitarrid waved at a doorway in the back of the room. "Put it in there, in the far corner. That way, we can see it from here, but it can't get in the way." Greel nodded in acknowledgement as he pushed the slender tube through the doorway. The gem-sculpture inside shivered slightly with the movement, but not much. The suspending liquid was thick, precisely to prevent it from moving around in there.

Mitarrid turned at the arrival of a familiar presence in the main doorway. Jengre was looking inquisitively at the proceedings. "You're decorating the Monitoring Station now?"

"This may just be recon, but it's still dangerous," Mitarrid reminded him. "An entire society died at this planet. If we're going to be that close, some of us are looking for ways to keep our spirits up." She glanced back at the sculpture, which was now in place. It was a flattish, graceful piece, its shape somewhat reminiscent of a Striker in flight, and the gems that comprised it were a gradation of blue and green. Bathed in the ambient light of Home, they seemed to not only reflect it, but glow with their own source. As an expression of the Arretchi's strength and pride, it was a fine work.

Jengre looked at Mitarrid curiously. "Do you dread looking upon the results of the carnage, or are you afraid we'll be in danger too?"

"Probably both," she mused. "We don't really know yet what we're dealing with. That's the whole problem."

She looked back again to see Greel staring at them both. The young Sculptor didn't know all the details about what was going on, but what he was hearing worried him. "Just what are we getting into?" he asked. "The death of an entire society?"

"Surely you've heard the stories," Mitarrid told him.

"I've heard several stories. We all know the tales of the Nemesis War, for instance."

Jengre shook his head. "This is nothing like that. The Horde is dangerous, clearly, but not on that level."

"Are you so sure?" Mitarrid asked quietly. "Even the Nemesis never caused damage on such an extreme scale. We're counting heavily on the Horde being contained. If we're wrong about that…"

"Then we'll know soon enough." Although fully aware of the potential seriousness of the situation, Jengre was considerably less worried than Mitarrid. It was also clear that neither was especially interested in sharing all the details with Greel.

He quietly left the Monitoring Station.

* * *

The Thoughtsea was vast, thousands of feelings and intentions all joined into a great, encompassing flow. While mostly calm and purposeful, though, an undercurrent of nervousness, of apprehension, had been growing slowly in it for some time now. Everyone knew that something bad had happened, and that they might face a risk themselves in responding. The actual facts, however, weren't clear enough like this. The Thoughtsea was more a realm of feeling than hard knowledge.

Greel pulled out and returned to full awareness of his surroundings. He could sense Parrik nearby. As a head of general affairs, she would certainly know exactly what they were facing, and could clarify for him. He called out to her.

Parrik answered readily enough, and was available to talk. Greel asked for the details even as he made the short walk from his rooms to hers. He could feel her amusement. "So, you've finally pulled yourself out of your artistic works enough to take note of the bigger picture?"

"The bigger picture seems to be influencing the requests I get," he pointed out. "People are looking for reassurance." He entered Parrik's main room and looked at her seriously. "What exactly are we facing?"

"You've heard of the Horde." It wasn't a question.

"I've heard the whispers all my life. A mob of killer vermin who lie in wait on a planet and devour everyone who comes down. I never knew how much truth was behind them." He shrugged. "There are more plausible stories to be afraid of." He meant the Nemesis War, and she knew it.

"The War is old history, and it affected our entire species. It will always be a part of our history, a part of who we are, because it left its mark so firmly- and because we all know there's a risk that those days could someday return. We'll never be free of that risk until the last Nemesis is found and destroyed." Parrik shook her head. "This is another matter entirely." She looked at him seriously. "Do you remember our last Harvest?"

"Mostly. I remember the celebrations, and how Homeship rang with excitement for so long afterward. Not all the details, though."

"You were still quite young then. Did you remember that there was a pall to that excitement for some of us, right afterward?" Greel shook his head. "Even as we cored that world, we picked up a long-range message, from another civilization- another Homeship. They, too, had found a planet to Harvest at that time. However, when they tried to burn out the local vermin, it ended badly. They were all killed."

" _All_ of them? The whole civilization?"

"It sounded like it. The message itself stated total destruction, and came with a brief recording of what seemed to be the vermin's head. The Dreamer heard in more detail."

"She told you?" Greel blinked in surprise. He'd never heard of the Dreamer involving herself with anyone outside of those only she could hear.

"It's she who ceremonially presides over the coring at the conclusion of the Harvest, didn't you know? But in response to something like this, she would certainly have reacted anyway. Oh yes, she told us," Parrik assured him. "She heard from _their_ Dreamer, of course. He didn't know everything- no one did. The local vermin had been properly studied and judged easy prey. Low technology level, no space flight. It should have been a simple job, and for a handful of cycles, it was. Then, somehow, it all turned around."

"What happened?"

"At least one of the vermin got onto their Homeship somehow, they think. In a stolen craft, a Striker or a Scout. They had technology to prevent them from being used that way, but somehow, it happened anyway. Then, through means no one ever understood, it caused all of our people's technology to malfunction. With nothing working as it should, they were at a disadvantage, and the vermin tore them apart. Those creatures shouldn't have been strong enough to do it even in that case, but they did. Even their Homeship was destroyed, the Core somehow breached." Parrik closed her eyes. "The final impressions, gathered and sent by their Dreamer, were of a great horde of hostile creatures, swarming and destroying Harbingers and Strikers alike."

Greel stared. "You saw those yourself?"

Parrik nodded. "I did. Everyone who needed to saw them." She took a deep breath. "We had to know what we could of what we faced, because someone needs to face it and learn the rest. We have to gauge, as nearly as possible, how dangerous this Horde truly is to us. If they're contained on their own planet, we need only stay away. However, if they've taken intact Arretchi ships for themselves, and learned to use them…"

Greel shuddered. "I see."

"We also seek to learn whether there are any survivors still there. I don't know if there's anything we can do for them, if so. We may not dare get that close. Still, we owe them to know of their fate."

Greel nodded slowly. "I suppose we do." Yes, he could see that going and learning these things was important, but it was also dangerous and frightening, and he couldn't help the thought, "Of all our kind, why us?"

Parrik heard. "Because we're the closest. It's as simple as that. It took pushing our speed to its limits, but we were able to get here in a viable amount of time."

"How close are we now? I've heard the apprehension, this last macro-cycle."

"We've recently entered their system, though the planet itself is much closer to the center. Another macro-cycle, and we'll reach it. We'll have to decide as we get closer, just how close we dare get."

"We don't want them to see us."

"No. We're coasting now, you know, to reduce detectable energy output. We don't really know what they can pick up on, or what they can do at all."

Greel shuddered as a new thought occurred to him. "If we were already this close, it could as easily have been us who stumbled on this place to begin with."

"No, there'd have been no danger of that," Parrik assured him. "It's a small planet, below our threshold. The Homeship that found it wasn't nearly as large as ours."

They were interrupted at that moment by an urgent call. Parrik was needed in the conference chamber, immediately. It sounded bad.

"What do you think…?" Greel trailed off fearfully.

"I'll find soon out," Parrik said grimly. She gave Greel what was meant to be a comforting pat on the shoulder as she passed, but there was too much worry under it to allow for any comfort.

* * *

Parrik joined Orron and Bazz in the conference chamber. Orron had helped organize the last Harvest, and was the closest thing to an expert on dealing with planets and their native vermin. Bazz was to be war leader against the Nemesis, should it ever be needed, but his voice would be useful here too. Parrik was a general authority head, and the three of them were collaborating on getting through this dangerous effort.

The tension in the room made it clear that things must have become far more dangerous. "What's happened?" Parrik asked.

Bazz looked at the other two grimly. "Our Monitors just spotted this." He brought up the image on screen. An energy trail traced across their star maps. The ship that left it had made several jumps, changing direction each time, and the older parts of the trail had already faded, making an origin impossible to find. The current destination, though, was clear: the third planet from this system's star, the same planet that hosted the Horde.

"Is that…?"

"A Nemesis warp trail," Bazz confirmed grimly. "The Nemesis is on the move, seeking to contact the Horde."

All three looked at other in horror. It wasn't unheard of, when vermin had ships of their own, for some to scatter and escape the Harvested planet. Usually, they either tried to keep fighting, and were destroyed quickly, or disappeared into the Void. The Nemesis race had not only fought and been good at it, they'd spread out and launched attacks on other Homeships as well, any they could find. With the technology to leap across space with such speed, an ability the Arretchi never had managed to wrest for themselves, they had proven a universal menace. It had taken countless ages to destroy them all, and it was well known that one had gotten away. That one, by all evidence, was gathering the scatterlings left over from other Harvests to build a new force and rekindle the war. They had a nest on some planet, and destroying it was a high priority for all Arretchi- if they could ever locate it.

For all the damage and grief caused by the Nemesis War, though, it had never resulted in anything as extreme as the destruction of a Homeship, and the death of an entire civilization. Indeed, as far as they knew, such a thing had never happened at all, until just now, with the Horde. Now, though, the last Nemesis sought the Horde, and there was only one reason for it to do that.

"It would recruit those creatures to fight with it, against us," Parrik murmured. "If that happens…"

"It would be catastrophic. Horde destruction joined with Nemesis mobility? We'd be looking at a massacre we can scarcely imagine." Orron looked at the others fiercely. "We must find a way to prevent this."

"It's too late to intercept the Nemesis," Parrik pointed out. "It will reach the planet well before we could."

"We have to destroy them all," Bazz declared. "The Horde, the Nemesis if possible. Everything on that planet."

"It's been tried," Parrik reminded him. "Those who came before us tried to Harvest it. They died trying. Do you think we could do better?"

"We aren't trying to Harvest anything now," Orron declared. "We simply need a means of swift destruction."

A piercing tone came from their instruments, punctuated by a call from the Monitors. "There's something else you should see." New information appeared on the displays.

"A nest? Fortified, by the looks of it. Out here, so far from their native planet?" Bazz clenched a fist. "The Horde _is_ spreading beyond their own world. Nemesis or not, they could be after us soon." He looked at Orron. "This has become even more dangerous, but you're right. We need to destroy them now, whatever the risk."

"You would go in there directly, start an immediate conflict? You're talking about an ejection strike." Parrik looked worriedly at the other two.

"You think we don't know that? What choice do we have?" Orron pointed out. "This isn't just us. Our entire species could be at risk."

"I know." Parrik sighed unhappily. "I don't like going in blind. Their abilities have grown since we heard of them, and we need to know how much."

"Unfortunately, anyone we send to scout in advance is just as likely to become a first casualty- and alert them, if they haven't been already," Bazz pointed out.

"I'm aware of that."

"There might be survivors already there," Orron pointed out suddenly. "That was part of what we meant to find out. If so, they could tell us something."

"Even if there are, by the time we're in range to talk to them, it's too late to make a difference," Bazz objected.

"The Dreamer can reach them now."

Bazz blinked in surprise. "You mean to ask her to get involved?"

"He's right. At the stakes we're dealing with, it's warranted," Parrik put in. "We can't risk limits to our communication now. All the help she can give, we'll need it."

Bazz nodded slowly. He knew what she meant. "So be it."

"More than that," Orron said. "As long as she's involved, let us ask her to activate the Drill. The fastest way to destroy that planet entirely would be to core it."

"You want to risk _descending_ there?" Parrik asked. "It's below our threshold."

"I know. But this isn't a Harvest, and it doesn't matter what we do to the surface. We want this place destroyed. This will get it done." After a moment, the other two nodded in agreement.

"So be it," Bazz murmured. "Meanwhile, we need that nest we just found destroyed as well, before they attack us or call back to their planet- if they haven't already."

* * *

Word spread quickly. If the Thoughtsea had been marked with nervousness before, it now vibrated with fear. Their entire civilization was going into a confrontation it may or may not survive, and the future of their very species might depend on the result.

However, not everybody was afraid. Cuura had been practically humming with excitement since they heard. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Tahaim asked him resignedly.

"Shouldn't I? Cuuma and I are the best Striker pilots alive. Now, we finally have a challenge worthy of us."

"I remember you said the same before the Harvest. Back then, it was fair enough. Now, I don't know. This is serious, not an opportunity for grandstanding."

Cuura was concerned for her worrying, if not for the job ahead. He gently took her into his arms. "We wouldn't lose sight of the importance of our goal. You know that. It will be fine. The Horde is dangerous, but no enemy is invincible. We will destroy them."

Tahaim nodded slowly. "Just don't die in the process."

"Come on. You think I'd let that happen, when I know you're here waiting for me to come back?" Cuura asked lightly. "Besides, an achievement is no fun if you're not around to brag about it."

"On the other hand, the risk is half the excitement." Cuuma had arrived in the doorway. "Come on, Cuura. They have a stray nest for us to burn."

"Advance, not stray," Cuura corrected him. "I'm coming. And we will be fine," he promised Tahaim, before eagerly joining Cuuma to run down the passage toward the Striker docks. "Let's see what this Horde is actually capable of."

They joined the other pilots at the dock. A decent-sized group was assembled, but it wasn't just Strikers poised to take off. "They've brought out the Mowers," Cuuma observed in awe. "I've never even seen one for myself before."

"Neither has anyone else we know," Cuura agreed. "They really are serious about this." Those were war machines, made and stored in case the Nemesis returned. They had no other purpose.

They looked at other gleefully. "Do you suppose they'll let us pilot one of those at some point?"

* * *

Bazz slowly and respectfully entered the Dreamer's Pavilion. Mounted at the very top of Homeship, it was her private abode, where she could indulge in communion with her own order over distances beyond common imagination, without distractions. Bazz almost expected the space to be darkened, or molded in strange shapes, or something equally esoteric. In fact, it was a normal-looking living space, except for the size. Dreamers were giants, and the Pavilion was scaled to match. It also, Bazz noticed, came with a private console at least on the level as those normally reserved for council use.

He didn't know if it would be difficult to get her attention. As it turned out, there was no need. He had barely entered the chamber when he heard her welcome. Her voice was powerful, but peaceful. She opened her eyes to regard him calmly as he approached.

Bazz bowed his head respectfully. "Spiass, the Dreamer. I apologize for disturbing you, but the situation is desperate."

"Yes, I know," she answered evenly. "You sound surprised. Do you not think we listen to all that passes right below us? What other news would our order pass between us, than the affairs of our own people?" She was faintly amused.

Bazz nodded. "I see. You know, then, what we would ask of you."

"Yes. To call to those trapped on the Horde's planet, so as to learn what they can tell us, and to act as Heart for all to stay in contact, so that you need not worry about the limits of range, nor need to rely on a stream or relays to communicate beyond it." She nodded. "I will do this. I am well aware of how dangerous the situation is." Her eyes narrowed in grief. "I heard Nuconne, when his people died… when he died. I wouldn't see that happen here."

"There is one other thing."

"The Drill. Agreed. We will core the planet immediately upon arrival, and hope that it's enough to end this threat."

They both looked up as they heard an announcement. "The nest was successfully destroyed," Bazz noted. "Good. The Void grant that our efforts continue to be so successful."

* * *

A voice called through the silence. Payash stirred uneasily. He had hidden within his self-imposed mental shell for a very long time. Now, someone was trying to break through and communicate. One of the other prisoners? Or, had someone else actually come? Cautiously, Payash emerged from his defenses and answered.

The voice was no one he knew, but it was definitely Arretchi. A lone, strong voice, coming from somewhere beyond this wretched prison. "Who are you? Where are you?" he asked.

"We are approaching the planet. We know there is great danger. We need to know, before we get too close, what we face. What happened there? What happened to you?"

Payash felt others stirring around him. Trapped here, with no hope of escape, they had all followed his suggestion and retreated into their own minds, waiting in a listening sleep, the better to bear the passage of time. Now, in response to this unexpected contact, they were waking up.

"Wait." If he had understood that right… "If you're still so far out, how can we hear you?" His eyes widened in awe as he realized the only possible answer. "You're a Dreamer?"

"Yes. My name is Spiass."

There were echoes of amazement and awe around the prison. Payash forced himself to focus on the practicalities of the conversation. "Nuconne called to you?"

"He did. Some of your people sent a broadcast message as well."

"And you came right here. Have you come for us, or to target the vermin? They're more dangerous than we understand."

"We know the danger. We came to appraise, but it's gotten worse. The Nemesis is coming, seeking to ally with them."

Payash jerked in horror at the thought. "No…" There were other murmurings of horror around him.

"We can't let that happen! You must have a way to stop it!" One voice of defiance. That was Burree. She never had been one to give up.

"We intend to," Spiass promised them. "We know the threat of the Nemesis. We need what details you can supply on the threat of the vermin Horde."

"What did Nuconne tell you?" Payash asked. He listened to her response, and nodded. Spiass knew most of what they had, at the time. As for what they'd learned since… "They've helped themselves to everything of ours that they didn't destroy. I don't know exactly how much they found. Homeship, and all the Harbingers, as far as I know, were lost. The remaining Strikers were left helpless when we lost Homeship's power. Those of us who survived were all pilots. They killed some of us, but the rest were rounded up and kept here. I don't know why they bothered. Curiosity? Trophies?" He shook his head. "They took weapons, I know that."

"The basic workings of flight, an approximation of our systems, and every conventional weapon we have," Spiass agreed. "Most of it hybridized with their own technology, now. We learned that much from the nest they put out here. We destroyed it, but it was watching for attacks. Do they have more of those?"

"I don't know. I didn't know about that one. I don't know if there's anything else I can tell you. There's one thing, though, that you should know. When we first studied them, all evidence said that they were fractious, that they fought among themselves. In all the time we've been here, there's been no evidence of it. Even hiding within ourselves as we were, we should have noticed if large-scale violence were going on. It hasn't. Unless their very nature has suddenly changed so radically, we can only assume that they were never as unaware of us as we thought, that they deceived us from the beginning. And that's a terrifying thought."

"Yes, it is," Spiass agreed grimly. "What about now? Do you know if they know we're here? Can you hear anything from them?"

"We can't understand them," Payash told her. "They give off basic impressions, of course. I can hear those now, all around us, wondering that we're awake. That's all, though. We certainly can't communicate. If you try hard enough, it hurts them. We tried to use that to our advantage, at first. The problem is, it leaves them sensitive to us, so they can hear _us_. Whether they can understand anything they hear, we have no way of knowing. We still can't get anything from them. We stopped trying it long ago. It isn't worth the risk."

"It would be if we could actually kill them that way," Burree muttered.

"We can't," Payash pointed out. "We can do damage, but not enough."

"Maybe a Dreamer could do better," Burree suggested.

"That isn't the plan," Spiass told them. "We seek to destroy this planet utterly, not engage in ongoing conflict. When we arrive, we will core it, immediately." She paused. "We don't dare delay for a rescue attempt, even if thought we could reach you. Perhaps there will be an opportunity in the aftermath, but that's no guarantee. I'm sorry that I can't promise your lives."

There was a moment of hesitation, but when Payash answered, he knew he spoke for all of them. "If you can't free us, then avenge us."

* * *

Parrik found Greel in his main room, assembling another gem-sculpture. The gems were all dark-hued, and he was affixing them together into a spiral. "That looks gloomy," Parrik commented.

Greel nodded. "Under the circumstances, it felt fitting. Everyone's on edge."

"Yes, and rightfully so. We're going into great danger."

Greel looked up from his work. "I've heard the term 'ejection strike' tossed around. I'm not familiar with it."

Parrik sighed. "Imagine if the Core were damaged, and about to breach. You know what would happen?"

Greel shuddered slightly at the thought. "Yes. It would destroy all of Homeship in a flareburst. That's what happened to them at the end, isn't it?"

"Yes, and probably too quickly to react. If there was time to do something, though, it's possible to eject the Core from the ship. It requires multiple simultaneous authorizations to do it, and the Core would be thrown to a distance great enough that its destruction wouldn't harm us- hopefully."

"All right. And then what?"

"Then what indeed. We obviously don't have a backup. Without the Core's power, many of our systems would be crippled. Homeship itself would be reduced to coasting through space on momentum alone, unable to change speed or direction. Hard to target a planet that way, so little chance of acquiring the resources to make a new Core. Without some incredible feat of ingenuity or luck, we probably wouldn't survive. But," she added, "we would resort to that, if it were certain beyond doubt that if we didn't, everyone would be vaporized in the next mini-cycle."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"It's the same sort of choice we're facing now," she told him. "Taking on the Horde directly, even if we hit as hard and fast as possible, is incredibly dangerous. The Nemesis will have had time to make contact, which may make it worse. However, if we don't try, they'll unite into a far worse threat, one that could destroy us all. We can't let that happen."

"So we try anyway, even though it's dangerous."

"We attack, despite the risk that we could lose, because we're desperate," Parrik stated flatly. "That is an ejection strike." She closed her eyes. "And if we do fail, may the Void shelter all our kind from what comes next."


	3. Chapter 2

**Ejection Strike**

Part Two

 _Nearly a master-cycle later_

Many of the Arretchi gathered at the viewscreens in fearful fascination as they reached the planet. Cuura and Cuuma were just fascinated. "So, that's the Hordeworld. How many of them do you think are waiting down there?" Cuuma asked eagerly.

"A Horde's worth?" Cuura suggested. They both snickered. "They found at least one more advance nest, and we don't know yet what's actually down there. High likelihood of more action. This should be interesting."

"A fight to defend the Drill, perhaps," Cuuma mused. "Or maybe they'll even let us go pick off their authority nexuses in advance, to reduce the risk of interference."

"They won't. There's no way they'll take a risk like that. We'll be waiting for the Horde to make the first move in an actual fight."

"Well, then we'll just have to hope that the Horde doesn't disappoint us." Cuuma sighed happily. "We haven't had this much fun since just before the Harvest. Remember that?"

"As well as you do, and you know it." Cuura's eyes glinted with the reflection of the light from the viewscreen. "We defeated those vermin. Should we do less against these?"

They looked at each other, then back at the planet ahead. "Our world lived to see us fly," Cuuma murmured.

"Your world is about to die," Cuura finished.

* * *

Orron, Bazz, and Parrik looked over the viewscreens and the readouts of information. Their trajectory would send them scraping right past this planet's moon, and they had to deal with what they found there. Although they had the room to themselves, this was no private meeting. The time for action had come, and they were in communication with everyone they needed to be.

"The nest on their own moon is an outpost, a war-nest, just like the first one we found. The energy spike we picked up from it before means they have their own thermetic cascade there. That probably won't be their only one, either." Orron looked grimly at the images.

"The cascade doesn't matter at this point," Bazz pointed out. "They can't hurt Homeship with that. I say we burn this nest quickly, and get down to the planet itself as swiftly as possible." The others agreed. Broken pieces of the Homeship that had come before visibly drifted in front of them, a grim marker of the deaths that had occurred here in the past. Pieces hit against their energy shielding, producing flares of light like an echo of explosions long died away.

"Look," Parrik pointed to the screen as more of the planet's moon came into view. The wreckage of a ship lay some distance from the nest, with several vermin crawling over it. "Is that the Nemesis' ship?"

A confirmation came from a Monitoring Station. "It is. It appears to have been destroyed by the cascade."

"And the Nemesis itself?" Bazz asked.

"We can't tell. If it's there, it's hidden in the wreckage."

Bazz grunted in frustration. The Nemesis could fall silent so completely that it was impossible to detect by any means. It could be right under them, on the far side of the planet, or dead, for all they knew.

"Did the Horde turn on it, then?" Orron wondered.

"They appear to have done. That doesn't tell us if it's alive or dead, though."

"Or," Parrik pointed out, "it could be a trick, to make us think they're at odds."

"It could. Deal with the nest," Bazz ordered. "Maybe someone can go down and search once that's gone."

"No, look," one of the Monitors pointed out. "A Horde craft, fleeing with the most intact piece of the wreckage." That being the only piece worth inspecting.

"Track it if you can."

"The Horde nest is training their cascade's carrier beam on us," they reported. A moment later, it fired a Pulse.

"They have our weapons, but they don't know what do with them," Parrik commented.

"If they have our weapons in general, then they're capable of piercing-level attacks," Bazz pointed out. "We're lucky that they're foolish enough to waste their early efforts on a weapon that can't affect the energy shielding."

"Perhaps because they don't understand energy-shielding," Orron suggested. "There's no evidence they have that. And that being the case, use our own cascade, and burn that nest!" It was quickly done.

"All of their remaining craft in the vicinity are scattering," came the report. "They're clearly all falling back to the planet itself."

"Let them. The planet will be dead soon enough."

"They were about to try the cascade for a second time. They didn't seem to be learning," Parrik mused.

"Clearly not," Bazz agreed, as a series of new energy signals appeared on their screens. A band of relay drones circled the planet, all energizing to train carrier beams of their own. "Useless, but no sense taking chances. Destroy them all."

"The others made use of those things for their own communication purposes, back then," Orron commented.

"I wonder if the Horde didn't find some way to sabotage them through it," Bazz muttered. "Just as well that we don't need to." Although she'd mostly been silent so far, they could all feel Spiass, ensuring that they all remained linked whether they stayed in range or not.

"We're entering the planet's atmosphere. Reengage main propulsion to steer?"

"Wait." Orron studied the viewscreens of the planet's surface. "We're coming in mostly over a large portion of water. That means minimal concern for terrain, and the solid surface underneath is as low as it's likely to get. We won't find a better place to core from. There's no need to steer anywhere. Reengage and brake. Descend so that we're straddling that water." Although he didn't announce it, the others heard the rest of his reasoning: "It's nowhere near the prison where the other Arretchi are being held, so we aren't directly endangering them yet."

"You _are_ hoping to rescue them in the aftermath of this?" Bazz asked.

"I want to keep the option open, for now."

Thanks to Spiass, those others could hear them too. They felt their gratitude for the thought. With or without the hope of rescue, though, they were all looking forward to the prospect of finally seeing the Horde fall. As Homeship settled down, completing its Descent, Payash and the others openly cried out in jubilation.

"Not quite the Landing Day we never got to celebrate, but it will do," Payash declared.

"Let them try to stop our people now!" Burree snarled fiercely. She beat her fists rhythmically against the wall of her cell. Suddenly, the cell moved, almost knocking her off her feet. Quickly regaining her balance, she looked around sharply. The cell was being relocated, and the vermin responsible clearly had some grim objective in mind.

"Burree!" Payash called out in concern.

"It's all right," she answered. "If they want to mess with me, let them come! I welcome the chance to take some payback of my own." She waited tensely for whatever was about to happen.

She didn't have to wait long. The cell settled into a new location, and moments later, one end opened, providing a passage into another room. It was also enclosed, no further way out, but there was a single vermin waiting in there. Burree could clearly sense it, and see it far more vaguely. They liked their light so horribly piercing, probably because their air was too dry to soften it properly. At least the cells themselves had contained a normal atmosphere. There was a large hiss of fog as the air mixed between the two rooms. Burree waited for it to even out, while she flexed her bio-tentacles and considered exactly how to kill the vermin in front of her. It was handy that they'd been so foolish, or so arrogant, that they'd never tried to strip her and the others of their armor.

As Burree advanced forward, though, she realized that the creature in front of her wasn't looking for a fight. It stood still, waiting, afraid but resigned. It was… offering itself? Not just to die, though. It seemed to think it could accomplish something this way. There was an audience of others outside the room, watching through a transparent wall. They were unhappy - afraid? - at the situation. One of theirs coming in here to its own death might well make them unhappy, but that didn't explain what this one's purpose was. Killing it would certainly make her happy, but…

No, its death wouldn't help its kind, but, she suddenly realized, communication might. It was known that bio-tentacles could interface with foreign nervous systems to a degree, and there was a belief, no one was quite sure from where, that a hi-jacked vermin body could be used as a translator that way. Was that what they were after? It seemed to be the most likely answer. Should she bother to oblige them? She certainly wasn't going to share any hard information with them, and she was most definitely going to kill this sacrifice they'd offered anyway, in the end. On the other hand, why not take the opportunity to taunt them a bit first?

The air had normalized throughout the room by now, and she could see the vermin in front of her just fine. It hadn't moved. Burree whipped a tentacle forward and wrapped it around the creature's neck. Yes, it could interface with the thing's nervous system, all right. There was some resistance, but the creature didn't seem to be consciously fighting it. It felt more like a built-up tolerance. Had this one been used like this before?

"Burree, don't," she heard Payash warning her. "You can't accomplish anything worthwhile from mentally attacking them."

"It doesn't matter," she told him. "Any damage to this one has already been done." She turned her attention to the vermin on the other side of the wall as she realized that one of them was trying to communicate. The one she held made for an imperfect go-between at best, but it did somewhat allow her to make sense of the sounds they used, if vaguely. The creature making them seemed to be trying to verify that communication was established.

Burree wasn't interested in a question-and-answer session. The only value she found in this exercise was to try and scare them. "The great Spiass has come! She'll be on you soon!" While the creature she held did make sounds in response, presumably in line with what Burree had said, she had a feeling that only a very basic gist of her message was actually getting through. She couldn't tell what the vermin out there actually heard or understood.

The same one "spoke" again, requesting her to clarify who she was talking about, it seemed. "She's acting Heart now, uniting us." The inbuilt resistance of the one she held was increasing, its mind instinctively fighting back. If anything, that would make it harder to get any real information through. The vermin outside were confused, she could tell. They probably hadn't understood that at all.

This was stupid, she decided. Trying to send garbled messages to creatures that couldn't figure them out was a waste of her time. They were trying to demand other types of information now, and one of them was brandishing a picture prominently displaying a glyph reading 'Nemesis', but Burree had had enough of this game. Even as the vermin in her tentacle's grip started moving, as if trying to escape her grasp, she tightened her physical hold on its neck, intending to strangle it.

Apparently, the vermin outside had lost interest at the same time. Several of them were leveling Handlances in her direction. As if she was going to make it that easy. Burree tensed, waiting, then leapt up just as they opened fire, clinging to some portion of the ceiling's structure and allowing the shots to pass underneath. The extra strength of armor could come in handy. One tentacle was still snagged on that one vermin's neck, and she could feel its dead weight down near the floor, but it didn't matter. That creature was no longer moving, and she had plenty of other tentacles to use. Snapping one forward, she snatched the Handlance from one of her attackers, delivering it to her own hands as she dropped back to the floor. It was an Arretchi weapon, stolen by these creatures. About time it was back where it belonged.

Striding through the hole their shots had made in their transparent wall, Burree opened fire wildly. The vermin were scrambling and running for it, and it was good to see. At this moment, she didn't even care that she hadn't hit one yet, although that would follow soon enough. She started to aim more carefully.

Some of the creatures had dropped low to the floor, and now one of them slid toward her along it, shooting right under her braced legs. Before Burree had a chance to consider this odd action, pain erupted from her back. She gasped, dropping to her knees. That wretched vermin! She hadn't realized they could move so quickly. She didn't know how seriously injured she was, but it felt bad. The creature had targeted the middle of her back, right where the bio-tentacles attached, and damaging that key connection seemed to have all but crippled her armor.

Taking a deep breath, Burree triggered the emergency release, detaching the armor. Exposing her own flesh didn't matter at this point. She wasn't going to survive this, but she refused to die trapped inside a nearly paralyzed shell. She could hear Payash calling out to her, hear his and the other prisoners' horror at her impending death, and she heard the people on the newly arrived Homeship as well.

Gathering what strength she could, Burree looked up and called out defiantly, "Make sure they all die!" There was a flash of movement from above her, then nothing.

* * *

There was a moment of hushed silence throughout Homeship as they felt Burree's death. They all knew what had happened on this planet in the past, and what risk they now took, but actually witnessing the demise of one of their own kind to the Horde made it all the more horribly real.

Into that silence, Payash spoke to them. "You heard her. Allow us to witness these creatures' destruction, for ourselves and for Burree!"

After a moment, Parrik nodded. "Burree was a brave warrior, but she was also one fighting alone against many. She faced a situation she couldn't have won. Here on our Home, we are together. We are strong. We will defeat this threat." Victory wasn't theirs yet, and a small undercurrent of doubt snaked beneath her words, but for the moment, it was outshone by determination. She felt the sentiments of the rest of the Arretchi join to hers.

"Then let us proceed," said Orron. "We're firmly positioned. The Drill-laser is ready." He looked upward, in the direction of the Pavilion overhead. "Dreamer?"

"Then let the life of this planet become Homeship's life," Spiass intoned. A surge of energy ran through the central components of the system, and the drill began humming with energy as it fired downward, seeking the heart of this world.

"Spoken as if it were a true Harvest," Orron idly noted.

"We consumed considerable resources to reach this planet so quickly," Parrik reminded him. "The planet's core, at least, _is_ being harvested, if we expect to recover from that."

"Yes, you're right."

Bazz was studying the readouts on the system. There had been several minor power fluctuations from that surge, although they had all smoothed out now. But then, that energy hadn't come from any touch of a button or a screen. A Dreamer's ability to influence technology by thought alone was possibly more awe-inspiring than the sheer reach of their communication range, perhaps because it was easier to forget about on a daily basis. While Spiass was always up there, sharing her Dreams with the others of her order, there were no other circumstances in which she would directly affect the system. The system didn't really take well to it.

"Two or three sub-cycles, and the planet's core will be ours," Bazz confirmed. "That will take care of the Horde. If we could only find and destroy the Nemesis as well, our victory would truly be complete." Unfortunately, they had no leads on that. The Horde craft that had fled from the crash site had vanished amidst the destruction of their Descent to this undersized planet's surface. Even if it hadn't, there was no telling whether the Nemesis had actually been in there or not.

"We don't even know if the Nemesis is still alive," Orron reminded him. "At this rate, we may never know what happened to it."

"It's too great a threat to our kind to give up looking," Bazz stated. "Unfortunately, we can do nothing for now. Our best hope is probably to watch for it after the planet is cored. If it's alive, it will surely flee at that point. Maybe, if we're fast enough, we can intercept it."

Just then, a new report came in. "We're detecting a signal from the Horde's prison. They're scanning Homeship, apparently for biosignatures."

"They're planning to attack us. They must be," Bazz said grimly.

"Then we'd best prepare quickly," Parrik answered. "Do we have a clear idea of what to expect?"

"We expect them to be powerful and deadly," muttered Orron.

"That's not enough to go on."

"According to Nuconne's testimony," Spiass told them, "their craft were about as nimble as Strikers, and they attacked with large projectiles that explode when they hit a target. These failed against energy shielding, and the Horde was harmless- until they found a way to attack our systems from the inside out."

"So what happens if they do that again?" Parrik asked worriedly. "How do we defend against an attack we don't understand?"

"They're using our technology now, merged with their own," Orron reminded her. "Maybe they can't do it again without crippling themselves."

"We'd better hope so," Bazz said grimly. "They have piercing-level shots now, thanks to that technology, so their attacks won't be harmless this time in any case."

"We don't dare hope they're slow to learn again," Orron acknowledged.

"If they were slow to learn the first time, and not just lulling our people into a false sense of security," Parrik pointed out.

"They may have been," said Spiass. "It was a costly move in their own lives, if so."

"They may not care."

"Either way, the attack coming at us now is very real," Spiass pointed out. It was launching from the prison as well, and Payash and the others could feel the Horde's resolve.

"That isn't just a prison, it's a war-nest and possible authority-nexus as well," Bazz noted. "Unless," he added, "the authority nexus is someplace else. Can we track their communications and try to find out?"

"We're on it."

"Meanwhile, what about the large force of craft heading our way? Send out the Strikers and hope for the best?" Orron asked.

"I have an idea." That came from one of their tech Inspectors, Jengre. "The right kind of energy wave can disrupt the systems' power. It's not something that normally happens, but maybe we could use that in this case. If their craft have really merged our technology with their own, it should have a recognizable but unique energy signature, right?"

"And if we can isolate and target it, we can knock them out of the sky with one blow," Orron said. "I like it. Can we actually do that?"

"I'm pretty sure I can." That was Mitarrid, in the Monitoring Station. "It will take a bit of work, but at the rate those craft are approaching, I should easily be done in time." After a moment, she added, "As long as we're coming up with clever new applications of the systems, I might be able to provide extra shielding on demand, at locations of our choosing, if it's needed. I've had a theory about a way to do that since the upgrades from the last Harvest."

"That might be a good idea, especially if you can make it as versatile as possible. There's no telling exactly what we're dealing with until it happens," Parrik noted.

Mitarrid got to work in earnest. However, she could spare a fraction of her attention to ask, "So, Jengre, did you know when you suggested this that I could pull it off?"

"No, not for sure, but it doesn't surprise me that you can."

Some mini-cycles later, Mitarrid announced, "Done. I can give you a wave that should cripple those Horde craft, but it's very short range. You'll have to let them get uncomfortably close."

"This looks a bit hit-or-miss," Bazz noted, looking over the specs. "If they spread too far, we won't get them all, and I have a feeling we'll only get one shot."

"It looks like it would have a stronger effect without energy from the shielding getting in the way," Parrik mused. "And if we can lure them close, we have a better chance of hitting them all."

"You want to lower the energy shielding and let them in?!" Orron stared at her. "That's…"

"A dangerous move," Parrik finished. "I'm well aware. Everything about this conflict is dangerous. But this has a high chance of success, if done right. Strategically lower part of the shielding, lure them in where we choose, have that wave ready for them. That _will_ make sure we get them all. The Strikers will be on hand to deal with any unexpected loose ends."

Orron nodded slowly. "It sounds like it should work."

"Offering them just one opening on all of Homeship is too obvious," Bazz objected. "We'll need to anticipate where they're already going, and lay our trap there. Otherwise, they could realize they're being herded. Remember, if we're right about their own penchant for deception, then they must be capable of understanding when it's used against them. For that matter, we'd best put up at least some resistance beforehand."

"Fair enough. Where, then, do we expect them to target?" Parrik asked.

Bazz considered. "Their scan was searching for biosignatures, right? They were looking for us, not our systems. They'll go where the highest population is…"

"Or the most important-looking person," Orron cut in, looking up meaningfully. "Spiass is many times anyone else's size. That had to get their attention."

"I'm sure it did," Spiass agreed. "Furthermore, Burree told them of me. While they likely understood little, they well may have taken note of what little they heard."

"So that's likely to be it. There's no direct access into the Pavilion from outside," Bazz noted. "The nearest Gate below, then, I think."

"That's right over the farms," Parrik pointed out.

"We can't help that. And we're out of time to speculate. They're nearly here."

* * *

The Striker pilots were ready to go. "Finally! Our first real battle against the Horde, on their own world." Cuuma was predictably excited.

Cuura, on the other hand, was slightly distracted. They were letting the Horde in right over the farms… Concerned, he called out to Tahaim.

Even as he made contact, though, he heard through her that Niamo, head of the farms, was ordering all Farmers evacuated until this was over. "It's all right," Tahaim assured him. "I'll be safe enough. Our biggest worry is how much of a mess there'll be to fix afterward. Stay safe yourself." That last almost as an automatic afterthought.

Cuuma was looking at him in amusement. "Whenever you can spare the attention."

"I did hear you. Yes, first battle down here, and almost surely last. They'll be done coring the planet before there's time for anything else."

"Then we'd best make this count." They and the other pilots climbed into their Strikers as word went out that the Horde craft were in visual range.

"Leave the shielding off until further notice," Bazz ordered. Mini-cycles earlier, Horde drones had appeared just long enough to open fire on the upper part of Homeship with piercing-level shots, breaking through the shielding. While it was only a small portion of it, and could be compensated for easily enough, they weren't doing so yet.

The Horde craft were right outside now, heading not for the Gate but for the outside of the Pavilion. "Are they trying to attack from out there?" Parrik asked.

"Engage top defensive blasters, force them away," Bazz ordered. He watched on the screens as the fleet of Horde craft mostly evaded them, angling downward. "Good, but not enough. Strikers, engage, and keep them away from the Pavilion itself." Flying side by side, Cuuma and Cuura led the rest of the small fleet out to take on the Horde. "Do what damage you can, and watch for anything we can learn about their current abilities and tactics. Ultimately, though, expect to let them through. And be careful. Remember that they _can_ shoot you down!"

While Bazz's warning was acknowledged, the two didn't let it muffle their spirits. "They weren't kidding about letting them get close," Cuura commented. "They're practically in our faces already."

"Well, then, let's clear the air," Cuuma answered. They both threw themselves into the battle with a will. It had been a long time since they'd engaged in actual combat, back when they'd helped clear the way for the last Landing Day and Harvest. Back then, the local vermin had been outmatched, and they'd won fairly handily. Now, it was different. The Horde seemed to be their equal in battle, and as they'd been warned, their craft had piercing-level shots, so the energy shielding on the Strikers was no defense. They could hear several of their companions perish as the battle went on.

"Look. They have two different types of craft, and they're giving priority to the defense of one type," Cuura pointed out. "I think the other type are just here to defend them. It's those main ones we'll want to watch out for."

"Maybe eventually. They aren't acting yet. Their defenders are doing all the fighting," Cuuma answered. "They're saving themselves for a bigger target, I'd say."

"Well, let's see how many of them we can make sure never reach it."

"While the defenders do their best to stop us. Sounds like a great idea."

Within a mini-cycle or two, they'd destroyed several of the primary Horde craft. By that point, though, the craft that remained were making a definite break for the Gate. "Don't follow them inside," Parrik cautioned. "The wave is designed to only effect them, but there's no sense taking chances. For the moment, you've done your job."

"Oh, and we were having so much fun," Cuura commented quietly to Cuuma.

"Well, as they say, the best times are known to vanish without warning."

"Yes, somewhat like their craft's power is about to."

Inside, everyone watched the Horde fly over the farms. "They're angling upward, still looking for access to the Pavilion."

"Well, they won't have a chance. That's far enough. Release the wave." It was done, and the Horde craft all began falling. "It worked! Nicely done."

Bazz was still cautious. "They can't fly, but they aren't totally inoperative. They're still exchanging communications with someone. Also, I don't like those energy signatures we're getting from the primary craft. They may still have a nasty trick or two left. Send out Scanstars to find out exactly what they're carrying."

The small drones were deployed, and a report soon came back. "The Scanstars found multiple explosive devices per primary craft, capable of producing a flareblast. If we read this right, they're still capable of receiving a signal to detonate."

"They might be able to send one remotely. Can that summoned-shield block that kind of power?"

"Of course," Mitarrid assured him, "and it's versatile enough to enclose them completely."

"Do it." She did, and it was a good thing. A moment later, every one of those weapons detonated. Luckily, they were all contained.

Orron, Bazz, and Parrik watched the Horde defender craft fall into the farm fields below, as they listened to the cheers of triumph and sighs of relief from their people. "Close the shields again," Parrik ordered. "Many of those Hordelings are still alive down there," she cautioned the other two.

"I noticed. Inspectors, go in there and clean them out. Be careful," Orron ordered. While Inspectors primarily watched for tech malfunctions, they were really troubleshooters in general, and were the best choice to dispose of vermin intruders. At least, he hoped they were. The Horde were no common vermin, and they would surely have a fight on their hands.

"The signals we tracked relayed through the prison to another location," Bazz observed. "We were right: their true authority nexus is elsewhere. They _are_ seeking to deceive us with decoys."

"It's a very small nest," Orron observed.

"I don't care," Bazz answered. "I'm not taking chances with it. Send four Mowers, each fully crewed, and destroy everything alive in that nest."

Orron considered for a moment. "Are either that nest or the prison communicating with anyplace else?"

"No, at least not at this time."

"Then there's probably nothing more to learn from their communications. The relay drones they were using are mostly in line with us, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Unleash a shockwave from here and destroy the lot of them."

"Is that really necessary?" Parrik asked.

"It can't hurt. If we can do damage to the Horde, we should. Besides, if those things are capable of any nasty surprises, I don't want to find out the hard way."

* * *

The report they received was a good one. The authority nexus, and every Hordeling in it, had been annihilated. More troublesome was the situation here on Homeship. Although a number of the Hordelings from the battle had been found and disposed of, their people had taken casualties doing it, and they were unable to confirm that all of the creatures had been found. If there were any left, they were too few to easily pick up on, and hiding themselves well.  
"I don't like that," Bazz said grimly. "If some do remain, they could do unpredictable damage to us."

"Unfortunately, there's no way to tell at this time," Orron muttered. He changed the subject. "The authority nexus is gone, but what about the prison itself? It's still a war-nest. Do you think any more attacks will come from there?"

"It seems less likely, with that nexus gone, but only time will tell. I don't think we dare attack it, though. If it can hold our people, our warriors, then it can surely repel us as well, and it seems to be the greatest stronghold they've got. It's also the only structure of theirs that seems to have energy shielding. No," Bazz shook his head. "We'll watch and wait. It won't be long. We only have a sub-cycle and a half left until we breach the core of this world."


	4. Chapter 3

**Ejection Strike**

Part Three

The signal was unexpected, but it had everyone's attention the moment they picked it up. The Nemesis had revealed itself. And it was at the prison war-nest.

"We can't ignore this," Bazz insisted. "With or without the Horde, the Nemesis is a great threat to us. If we have a chance to finally hunt it down, we have to do it."

"But that place is too dangerous to take on in direct combat," Orron objected. "And we can't resort to the thermetic cascade, because the place has energy shielding of its own. There's no good way to go about this."

"There probably isn't," Bazz agreed, "but we have to try." He looked at them seriously. "One last ejection strike."

"Are we sending most of our fleet?" Parrik asked resignedly.

"I will go myself," Spiass suddenly said from above them.

All three of them, and indeed, most of their people, stared upward in shock. "What?!"

"It isn't enough to simply destroy the Nemesis itself," she pointed out. "It has already begun to build a new force of its own. We need to find and completely burn that nest as well. I can extract the knowledge of its location from the Nemesis itself by force. None of you can do this. Nor can you easily bring it back as a prisoner: it's too large for that. I must do this myself."

"We should still send the fleet. You can't do this alone," Parrik insisted.

"No, I will not go alone. But this is a mission of great danger, and there is no guarantee of safe return- even if we succeed in our goal. I ask for the help only of those who are prepared to die for this, if necessary. All others, stay here and stay alert. We don't dare leave Homeship unguarded, either."

"No, you're right. But," Orron said anxiously, "if something happened to you, the Drill would shut down. There's still over a sub-cycle until we're done here."

"I know. If I do perish, it had best not be before that." Spiass activated her personal armor, and waited as it folded around her. It was custom-made, of course, intended in case of extreme circumstances they couldn't even imagine. Now, it seemed, those were upon them.

"We would rather that you didn't perish at all," Parrik said softly. "We don't always give it enough credit, but you're a part of us."

Spiass sighed and closed her eyes. "You have everyone in Homeship, our entire civilization, to look after, but that is as far as your experience extends. You know that there are others out there, but only academically. I hear the other civilizations. All Dreamers are in contact with each other, always, and all of us listen to those we share our Home with, and share the tales of their lives with each other. My view covers our entire species. That species itself is at risk. This is greater than the Home you know, and certainly greater than my individual life. This is what it means to be a Dreamer." She opened her eyes and looked determinedly in the direction of the prison. "Even if it takes my sacrifice, if it saves our people from the threat of the Nemesis forever, it will be worth it."

After a moment, she heard the replies of a number of the Striker pilots: "We'll support you."

And from the prison itself, from Payash: "We've longed to see our enemies here destroyed. So much the better if we can have a part in that with our own hands. You asked for those willing to lay down their lives. When you come, free us if you can, and my companions and I gladly offer ours."

* * *

For once in his life, Cuura looked worried. "You're really determined to be a part of this?"

"Of course I am. Tangling with one attack and destroying that authority nexus were great fun, but why stop there?" Cuuma wasn't worried at all, but then, if one _had_ to try to pick the sensible one of the two, they wouldn't pick him.

"I wouldn't argue against fun, but a suicide mission?"

"Possible suicide mission. We might make it back just fine."

"We might find plenty of action right here. It's still considered a possibility that the Horde will attack again. They could be waiting for us to divert most of our forces there."

"And that's why you're staying, huh? No," he added, as Cuura started to correct him, "I know that's not why. You're staying because Tahaim would be shattered if you didn't come back. Spiass asked for only those prepared to die on this, and you don't qualify." He shrugged. "It's fine. That's why you have me to fill in."

"Last I checked, you didn't want to die either," Cuura pointed out.

"No, I don't _want_ to, but if it best serves the survival of our people - or more, our entire species - I'll take that risk. I'm not the one with someone waiting for me here."

"You are this time. I'm waiting for you here," Cuura reminded him quietly.

"Huh, good point. I guess I'll just have to make sure I make it through alive then, right? I hope they do attack here as well, so you won't feel left out." He actually meant that.

"I could probably use the diversion." Cuura sighed. "May the shadow of the world that birthed our people keep you safe on this one."

* * *

Although it wasn't a commonly needed feature, the Pavilion could detach from the rest of Homeship. It could fly - and fight - on its own. Spiass detached it now, and set off for the prison. An impressively large number of Strikers accompanied her. As the distance passed, Spiass busied herself at her console. She had a copy of the program that Mitarrid had come up with, to produce a shield anywhere within range on demand, and she had an idea for adapting it to her own purpose now. She had a feeling she was going to need every advantage she could get.

* * *

Mitarrid watched the display as it tracked the progress of the Pavilion and its accompanying fleet. "Do you think they can really pull this off?" she asked Shillah, the Monitor next to her.

"I want to think so, but I don't know," Shillah answered. "Any kind of complication could come up. The Nemesis' signal has disappeared again. What if it isn't there anymore?"

"Its signal may have vanished, but there's been no movement in or out of that war-nest since then," Mitarrid pointed out. "It shouldn't have gone anywhere. It's just fallen silent again."

"You think they'll actually find it?"

"I should hope. I'm more worried what it takes to do it. The Horde could well have set a trap or- What the…?" As at that moment, a Hordeling strode out into view right in the middle of the Lesser Floor, just below where their Station overlooked.

"I _knew_ they'd missed some from the clean-up before," Shillah muttered. She and Mitarrid looked at each other.

"They were too well hidden, but that one isn't hiding now. It's trying to get our attention. Do you think it's a challenge, or a diversion?"

"Diversion. There are at least several more nearby, and they're anxious to accomplish something."

"Well, we'd better stop them." The rest of Monitors were gathering forward to stare as well. Mitarrid hit a button to blare an alert, even as she called out, "We've got leftover Hordeling intruders here!"

"We'll get them," she heard Jengre answer, echoed by several other such sentiments. They'd already known that there might be more of them, and Jengre and his comrades were still wearing their armor, just in case. They quickly ran in, armed with Handlances. The one Hordeling that had shown itself ran, but it wasn't the only one they'd spotted. "They're going for the Strikers!"

"Stop them… no, too late," Mitarrid muttered in disgust, and many of the Hordelings, despite the attempts to shoot them, disappeared inside a handful of standby Strikers.

"Do you think they can figure out how to use them?" Shillah asked. They had their answer a moment later, as their readouts reported the Strikers' systems powering up.

"They say that those who came to this planet before us had designed all their craft so they couldn't be operated by any vermin, that the system scanned for a legitimate pilot before responding. Right now, I wish we had that tech."

"It wouldn't matter, would it? They also say that the Horde bypassed it somehow, and that's how they got at their Homeship."

"I know, but I strongly suspect that it took them some time and tinkering to do it. I'm sure they couldn't have just grabbed and used any Striker they came across."

By now, a number of their own pilots were flying in their direction to deal with this. "Back off," Cuura called to Jengre and the others. "This is a matter for the air now."

"None of them are _in_ the air yet," one of the Inspectors objected. He cut off with a cry as one of those hijacked Strikers opened fire, gunning him down. At almost the same time, it shot forward at floor level, slamming into several of the others and sending them flying.

Jengre, who was one of those hit, shook his head as he started to get up. It hadn't really hurt, thanks to the armor, but he was inclined to think that Cuura was right: it was time to let the other pilots handle this.

On the other hand, at least one Hordeling was still on foot, and right in front of him. He suspected it was the same one that Mitarrid had first seen. Jengre tensed to attack. Rather than run, the Hordeling lunged at him and tried to punch him in the face. Jengre faintly heard the blow thud off his armor.

The futility of the action must have occurred to the Hordeling, because it certainly turned and ran now. Jengre went after it. He'd dropped his Handlance when the Striker slammed into him, but he quickly scooped it up again, and leveled it for a shot.

Suddenly, one of the hijacked Strikers glided up right in front of them. Jengre tried to turn and leap out of the way, but it was too late. The Striker opened fire. There was no chance to escape.

Mitarrid flinched as she watched - and felt - Jengre's death. They hadn't been _that_ close, but she'd known him for a long time. Dazedly, she watched as the Hordelings fled in their stolen Strikers, and as their own pilots swooped in to try and stop them. She heard Shillah next to her, reporting that there were two Hordelings in each of the Strikers they'd taken.

"The second manning the back-up weapon controls in each case, I suppose?" Cuura responded. "What, Hordelings can't fly and shoot at the same time?" He and the other pilots pursued the hijacked Strikers, but the Hordelings were clearly trying to escape back toward the nearby Gate. Forcing herself to shake off her distraction, Mitarrid keyed in the command for the system to close the hard-doors.

Cuura was pleasantly surprised when not all the Hordelings concentrated solely on escaping. Some of them, it seemed, preferred to turn and fight. The hard-doors closed slowly, so there was still time for them to flee, but they didn't yet.

They really were challenging combatants. They proved amazingly difficult to shoot down, and they were starting to shoot down some of the Arretchi pilots in turn. Cuura suspected that not all of his companions were up to this challenge. "Anyone who knows they're outmatched, pull out," he called. "This will take the best of us."

"Too late," one of the others answered. "They're fleeing now." Indeed, now the remaining Hordelings were racing for the narrowing gap between the closing hard-doors. Cuura led a handful of his people in trying to catch them, but it was too late. The two remaining Hordeling-piloted Strikers slipped out at the last possible moment, as the hard-doors closed, and Cuura's and the others' shot impacted futilely against them. Cuura and the others pulled up and circled around.

"Can we reopen the doors and go after them?" someone asked.

"Don't bother. They'll be long gone by the time we can get out there," Cuura answered. "Are they heading for the prison?"

The Monitors confirmed that. "Two Horde-hijacked Strikers, flying directly for the prison, and therefore on the tails of Spiass and her escort."

"Coming your way, then, Cuuma," Cuura called.

"I guess I should thank you for the gift, then," he answered. "You had your fun first, I'll have mine last."

A more formal warning had already been sent to Spiass and the others to watch out for this. "That's all we can do at this point," Parrik commented unhappily.

"It is," Orron grimly agreed. "Wait for Spiass to succeed or fail, and wait for the Drill to finish its work. We're only watching and waiting now."

* * *

The war-nest prison came into view ahead, and Spiass studied it, and the readouts from her console, carefully. The signal from the Nemesis had disappeared some time ago, but as they had noted, there had been no coming or going from this place since then. It was a large, strong-looking structure, and visibly well-armed with weapons and a large number of Hordelings waiting for battle. However, the energy shielding had been taken down.

"That's not a good sign. They seek to lure us into some kind of trap," Spiass observed.

"Let them try, and we'll see how good their trap is." That was Cuuma.

"No, we won't make it that easy for them. Attack their outer defenses, do what damage you can, but don't try for the structure itself. There's a better way to handle this."

The fleet began its attack. The Horde fired its own thermetic cascades at the Pavilion. It was useless, of course, and she ignored it. On the other hand, several Strikers that intercepted Pulses were destroyed by them. That shouldn't have happened. Had they altered the tech somehow? Spiass forced herself to concentrate on her own task.

She could feel the prisoners inside, waiting for a chance, and through them, could see the layout of the prison cells. Their location was easy enough to pinpoint. As she brought the Pavilion within close firing range of the structure, she strategically aimed several beams. They were the carrier beams from the thermetic cascade, but that wasn't their intended use now. Instead of the usual Pulse, Spiass released a small force-burst along each one. They blew small chunks out of the prison without damaging the rest of the structure- and caused just enough damage to breach several of the cells.

The prisoners in those cells, including Payash, began pushing aside the rubble and working themselves free. "Our captors seem too preoccupied to notice us," he observed. "We can free the rest, and then, if the Nemesis is here, we'll find it."

"Wait." Spiass looked back at her console as it beeped softly. "I've got its signal again. It's active, outside the structure, and moving." She quickly located the source: a sturdy but minimally-armed Horde craft, with a number of their defense craft flying an escort around it. They were fleeing the prison, and quickly. "They're trying to escape us now," Spiass said, "or so it appears. Free your comrades," she told the prisoners, "and do what damage you can to them from the inside, or seek freedom if you can." To the pilots, she called, "Some of you, with me. We have to catch them. The rest, continue to keep their main defenses busy." She set the Pavilion off in pursuit of the fleeing craft.

As her accompanying Strikers tangled with the Horde defenders, Spiass focused on the central craft. Suddenly, its defenders scattered and fled. "Don't follow," she ordered. "They're probably trying to lure you away." She wasn't sure that was the only reason for their disappearance, though. It seemed like they were getting out of the way. There was a trap of some kind in the making.

She turned her attention back to the main craft. A single defender had reappeared to pace it. Inside the craft itself, she sensed a single, determined Hordeling presence. In fact, there was something odd about it, if she concentrated.

This, she realized, was one of those that Payash had told her about, the ones that had been left sensitive to the Arretchi's own voices after one of them had torn into its mind. She could feel the imprint on it, if she looked closely enough. They'd said that such creatures were useless to them, that they still couldn't be understood in turn. Spiass wondered if she could do better. It was worth attempting, if she could learn what kind of trap they were planning. She reached out and tried.

It didn't work. She could feel the thing's mind flinching in response to her touch, but she couldn't read anything from it, except that it was communicating with the pilot of the defending craft, and a vague sense of determination to accomplish whatever it was trying to do. She'd heard that much anyway. Payash was right, deliberately touching the minds of the Horde was a useless endeavor.

Suddenly, both craft raced straight for the bottom of the Pavilion. The Strikers tried to intercept them, but the Hordeling defender destroyed several of them. Then the main craft flew straight in through the port on the Pavilion's underside. Spiass tensed. They wouldn't offer the Nemesis as a gift, surely. What kind of trick was this?

Just then, the system picked up the activation of energy shielding, all around the Pavilion's current location. A summoned shield? No, she realized, a rerouted one. This was where the shielding from the prison itself had gone. It was slowly spreading to surround her and all the craft immediately nearby. She called to the Striker pilots, "Get clear. Whatever the nature of this trap, don't get caught in it! I have a better chance to survive than you." They scattered, several of them pursuing the remaining defender, which was also fleeing. The Hordeling narrowly slipped out, but the Strikers failed to get out in time, and fatally crashed against the shielding. Spiass shuddered at the feel of their deaths. They'd been taking casualties slowly since this battle began, but that didn't make it any easier.

She started to coast the Pavilion to a stop, while cautiously waiting for the next move of the Hordeling craft that had entered. At this point, she had a strong suspicion that a suicide attack was in the making. Were they about to sacrifice the Nemesis for that as well? The Pavilion rocked as it impacted the shielding trap outside. It hadn't stopped quickly enough. Spiass staggered briefly before regaining her balance.

She turned her attention back to the Horde craft, and her eyes widened in surprise. This close, she couldn't have missed the presence of the Nemesis, especially as her system still picked up an active signal. She was pretty sure she could have sensed it at this range even if it were hiding within itself. It wasn't in there. The Hordeling was alone, preparing its attack, preparing for its own death, if she read it right, and savoring the belief that it was about to win. The signal had been false, another Hordeling decoy.

Recalling what they'd tried before, Spiass had a good idea what was to come. Luckily, she'd taken personal precautions. The new shielding program had been adapted and applied to her armor, giving her personal protection on the level of any craft or ship. Indeed, as she'd expected, the Horde craft detonated in a flareburst. It tore the Pavilion apart from the inside out, but Spiass survived unscathed.

She felt her people's consternation at the destruction of the Pavilion, although they didn't have to fear for her. They could all tell that she was all right. She could also feel a wash of triumph from the Horde. Clearly, the creatures believed her to be dead.

"Take advantage of their distraction," she urged the pilots. "Take out their defenses." They fiercely went to it, and she could hear Cuuma laughing in triumph as he destroyed one of the Horde's cascades. To those inside, she asked, "Can you find where the Nemesis actually is? Or at least learn if it's truly there?"

Inside, the first prisoners to get free had gotten their companions out as well, and they were now starting to spread out through the hallways of the place, looking for Hordelings to take payback on. "We'll look," Payash assured Spiass. He turned to his fellows. "Don't spread too far. Our best strength is in numbers."

"And surprise," someone added.

He acknowledged that. "We'd better make use of both. I suggest we break into two groups, no more, and search this place for whatever we can find. And any vermin we run into, jump them and tear them apart. For our people, and all we've been through. And for Burree," he finished grimly. The others heartily agreed.

Meanwhile, Spiass adjusted her armor's shielding to double-strength and climbed out of the wreckage of the Pavilion. She'd given it a few moments, so as not to reveal the Horde's failure to them so quickly, but now their triumph was fading anyway, so something had probably tipped them off. Emerging, she looked around. The surrounding energy shielding was down, and nearby was what looked like the controls for it, attended by a group of Hordelings.

She could pick out one among them that was clearly their head. Destroying that one would probably cripple them somewhat. Even as she started toward them, they all scuttled inside something behind them, some land vehicle, which was soon racing across the ground. She vaguely recalled seeing that thing arrive earlier, while she'd been chasing their decoy craft. So, they'd arranged a quick escape then. Perhaps they weren't so confident, after all. The land vehicle was fast, but small, and given how much larger she was, she could probably out-distance and catch it. She had a custom-sized Handlance, and could try to shoot it from here, too, but with no experience, she doubted she'd hit it at this range. She chased after it.

Inside, Payash and the others had killed a number of vermin, and rearmed themselves with Handlances taken from their fallen enemies. It was clear that their escape had been noticed by now. Groups of vermin fighters had tried to intercept them, and they knew more would be coming.

"They're onto us, but that could actually be useful," Payash noted. "Listen. They're trying to protect something, something they're afraid we'll find. Let's head to this place that has their attention and find out what."

"There are closed doors in the way, blocking that direction. I think they're closing everything in the way."

"They open with a touch-panel; we've seen them use it. Here."

"It doesn't react to _our_ touch."

"Not surprising." Payash shrugged. "The next vermin we kill, we'll borrow their hands afterward and see if that works."

Outside, a number of Horde craft had flown in to attack Spiass directly. She could have caught that land vehicle, but every time she was about to, it seemed she was attacked again from the air, and had to deal with that. The double shielding protected her even from their piercing-level shots, but that wouldn't last forever. She fought them off as best she could, managing to shoot some down, swatting others away with her tentacles. Then she resumed her pursuit.

More Horde craft swept in, firing on her repeatedly. This attack felt more furious than the one before. She downed them as best she could, but there was still one left, shooting fiercing. Spiass flinched as she felt the shielding overload and fail. She lashed out with a tentacle, and though it was a glancing blow, it connected, sending the craft toward the ground in flames. It had gotten off many more shots at her in the moment before she downed it, but her armor had absorbed them, taking minor damage in the process. It wouldn't have absorbed many more.

To her surprise, the Hordeling inside shot out of the doomed craft as if thrown, flying into the air. It extended some kind of sheet, and catching the air with it, broke its own fall as it dropped to the ground. Were the Horde craft designed to allow for that? Spiass reflected that they should take that idea for themselves. An instant exit from a damaged craft might prove very useful in a number of situations.

However, that Hordeling was still alive, and it felt like a particularly dangerous one. The land vehicle had pulled ahead again, but Spiass turned to finish off her attacker first.

At that point, the two hijacked Strikers appeared on the scene. There was no mistaking them, for she could feel the alien presences within- even had they not immediately attacked her. She tried to swat at them, but they were too nimble. They focused their attacks on her Handlance first, soon destroying it, and she tried to shield the damaged part on the front of her armor as they turned their shots on her.

Just then, Payash called to her. "We've found it! The Nemesis is here!" Spiass whirled toward the prison. Yes, she could see it through their eyes: the Nemesis itself, withdrawn and silent, with two terrified Hordeling guards, now with nothing but a single transparent wall between them and Payash's group. She could feel exactly where in the structure they were.

As Spiass hurried toward the prison structure, she called out to the pilots. "Gather close. Whatever still stands between us and our goal, I need you to help get through it."

"We can probably shield you from just about anything, if we fly densely enough," Cuuma mused. "The problem is, crowding in that close is asking for mishaps. Not everyone has the kind of flying skill to pull off such a formation."

Spiass hesitated. "I can take control of the Strikers' systems myself. There will be no doubt of a perfect formation then. Unfortunately, I can't concentrate on shooting all of them. You'd basically be nothing but a shield. And there's a further risk. If anything _did_ happen to me, they'd all end up off-line. The systems would be overloaded. Even if all goes well, none of them will fly again without recalibration."

"If all goes well, we'll be done here anyway, right? We can afford it. And if not… well, we didn't come here to play it safe. As to the rest, remember, we're all here because we're willing to pay the price. If you think that's the best way to get through, do it!"

"Very well." Even as she ran toward the prison, Spiass stretched out her will, and seized control of the Strikers. She pulled them into a tight but coordinated spiral around herself, a living shield against any attacks that might come. She lost a few to stray attacks as she went, but at this rate, losses should be minimal. The outer defenses of the prison were in shambles by now, and whatever lay within might not matter if she was quick enough.

As an added boon, the hijacked Strikers had fallen under her control as well. The Hordelings within would be unable to do anything now that the systems no longer responded to their control. Once they got back to Homeship, and she could relinquish her own control of them, they'd have to make sure that those creatures were properly disposed of.

Inside, Payash and his companions sought to secure their access to the Nemesis. Spiass suggested it might not be necessary at this stage, but they were determined to do whatever they could. They opened fire, shattering the last wall and trying to kill the guards, although those two dove to the floor in an attempt to dodge. Payash thought he heard a flash of pain from at least one of them.

Suddenly, his own group was opened fire on, from behind. They'd known there were more of the vermin about, hunting them, but again, they'd underestimated how quickly they could move. They all went down in a rain of shots.

As Payash lay, near death, he could hear Spiass's distress. "It's all right," he assured her. "To go down fighting was more than we dared hope for, for a long time. You gave us that much." He angled his head slightly. He could see one of the vermin standing right nearby, Handlance in hand, giving off an annoying sense of pride. Gathering the last of his strength, Payash focused on one of his bio-tentacles, snaking it forward. It grabbed the leg of the annoying vermin, and Payash had the pleasure of feeling its pride collapse into fear. Then something severed the tentacle. Payash barely had time to register the backlash shock, when his back exploded in pain, and then he felt nothing.

Spiass felt the other group of freed prisoners inside heading for the same location. Again, she told them that they didn't have to do this, but they, too, preferred to fight to the end than run and do nothing. Spiass listened to them make a last charge on the Nemesis and those who guarded it, and listened to them die as well.

Suddenly, the two Hordeling-hijacked Strikers shot forward, slamming through a number of the others before shooting straight up into the air. The Hordelings had managed to manually activate the boost engines. Spiass let them go. She could feel their triumph at their escape, but it didn't matter. Even if those Strikers didn't crash to ground hard enough to kill them, they would never fly again. It didn't matter what happened to them now.

She had reached the prison structure itself, and stood right outside the place where the Arretchi inside had fallen. She smashed through the wall with sheer force. The Nemesis lay before her, and the Hordelings around it were caught off guard by her entrance. She swiftly reached in and snatched up her target, but she couldn't help her gaze straying to the numerous Arretchi corpses that lay nearby.

"They didn't die in vain," Parrik suggested, from Homeship. "If they'd had a chance, the Horde might have moved the Nemesis elsewhere in there once it was found, and you wouldn't know where. They made sure that the Horde was too busy fighting to do it."

Spiass nodded slightly in ackowledgement, as she turned to flee from the prison. The Nemesis' artificial body was in her hand, and time enough to wrest information from it when they were safe. Now, she only sought to get herself and her people out of here.

She never thought that the hijacked Strikers could still be an issue. Not until they shot straight back down, riding gravity, and opened fire on her with full force. Their shots tore into her back, and with a cry, Spiass stumbled. She tried to force herself to run, but they fired on her one more time, and she fell to her knees. She dimly noticed those Strikers crash hard to the ground nearby, but the damage was done. She knew she was dying.

"I'm sorry." Opening and trying to drag herself from the now unresponsive armor, Spiass spoke to her people one last time. "I've failed. The Drill…" She knew from the heads on Homeship, the Drill was nearly a mini-cycle from reaching the planet's core. She wouldn't last that long. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Those who accompanied me here, there's no getting out now. The self-destruct is on a separate system, and I haven't touched that one. If you would sooner die than face capture, you have that choice. Homeship, go. There's nothing more you can hope to do here. Don't fight or die in vain. Go. Live on…" Her voice faded, and the Dreamer was no more. The Nemesis slipped from her limp hand.

With the loss of her influence on the systems, the Strikers stopped working, and began drifting helplessly toward the ground. The pilots could no longer hear Homeship, but they could still talk with each other. "What do you think?" Cuuma asked the others. "I, for one, would rather go out on my own terms than let the Horde decide our fate. Unless we think there's anything else we can accomplish here."

"We could get out and fight. We could still kill many of them. We could still kill the Nemesis."

"No," someone else objected. "She was right, we need the location of its nest first. Others might come and succeed where our mission failed, but not if it and its knowledge are destroyed."

"And killing a handful more of Hordelings won't make enough difference in the long run, not enough to justify the risk of ending up their prisoners," someone else insisted.

Cuuma nodded to himself. "I guess that settles that. Our lives, our terms!" He aimed his last words at Cuura, back on Homeship, although he knew that he couldn't hear. "Sorry. I'm not coming back after all. At least I won't leave you uncertain about my fate. Fight on for me." Just as he felt the Striker settle to the ground, he keyed in the self-destruct. He knew he wasn't the only one.

* * *

Cuura had felt the connection with Cuuma fade when Spiass died, but waited anyway, as if expecting it to return. Now, he felt the only contact that could still reach: the sensation of his death. As Cuura bowed his head and closed his eyes in grief, he felt Tahaim's arms close around him, and her offer of whatever comfort she could give.

"I know he had no chance of making it back," he whispered. "I know he'd probably face a worse fate if he survived. But…"

"But right now, it doesn't make it better."

"No."

* * *

Bazz, Parrik, and Orron looked at each numbly. The Drill had shut down the moment it lost Spiass's life-signature, and the core of this world was out of their reach. "So that's it? Is there nothing we can do now?"

"Nothing but do what she said and get out of here," Parrik answered Orron.

"This may have been our one chance to stop them. Could we afford to lose it?" Bazz asked.

"We've already lost this chance," Parrik pointed out. "Coring the planet failed, and we already know we can't beat them in straight combat. We'd be decimated if we tried, and that's exactly what she didn't want to happen. We have to leave, now, before they launch another attack against _us_."

After a moment, the other two nodded slowly. "You're right."

"Our energy is still depleted," Orron reminded them. "That will be a problem sooner rather than later, I fear."

"I fear we'll have many problems sooner rather than later," Parrik answered soberly.

Soon, Homeship was pulling away from the planet. As they headed back for the shelter of the Void, gloom and loss dominated both the Thoughtsea and the minds of those who remained outside it.

Cuura still clung to Tahaim, and wished she were enough to make up for the new empty space in his existence.

Mitarrid soberly watched her readouts, and reflected that Jengre's usual optimism would have been very welcome right now.

Greel slowly pieced together another gem-sculpture, but it depicted only despair.

Parrik listened to the voices around her as she stared out at the stars. What had happened was bad, but it was just the beginning. The Nemesis and the Horde were united now. She knew there would be far worse to come.


End file.
